Your name: four letters.
Four years to get over you.
One year for each letter.
I wasted so much time being bitter.
I put some E in it. Now I’m much better.
Finally quit the game.
Finally quit the player.

You: the hardest thing I ever had to get over.
Fuck nicotine.
My addiction was on another level. Amphetamine.

I never thought we would come to this. Ever.
Guess it gets tiring. Saying “I want you”, then picking your heart up from the gutter.
I never thought it would come to this. Ever.
Seeing you dance with somebody else and call them a lover.
Watching you kiss someone else and not fight a motherfucker.

I got over you.
Don’t ask me how.
Don’t ask me why.If I said I was upset, it’d be a lie.

Laser lights hit our pretty faces.
I can’t believe we’re here. Out of all the places…
“Do I love you?”, I ask myself as I touch your face.
Now I realize I lost love in a hook-up place.

7 thoughts on “Jan.3”

I like this for several reasons.
One is laser lights experience. I thought I was the only one whose inner wars begin to wage under the dim lights, in the thick of the smoke and the crowds that seem never to see me. A few drinks often help tremendously in the kicking of these existential epiphanies. I’ve written a few poems on my phone in those experiences.

Two is the honesty of this. The confusion of ideas accentuated by the rambling disorganised structure of your poem/story/whateverthefuckitslabelisbecausewhocaresaboutlabelling. I like the mixture of the visual/external and the emotional external. I know some of this might seem coincidental, yet I do not believe any Art is coincidental. Since I relate to your experience, I can see how this piece embodies the bitter and the sweet.

Contextually, I will tel you that you never lose love. Love, like life, is never lost but transformed.